


A Good Time for Bad Ideas

by Sandrine Shaw (Sandrine)



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: (but he'll find out soon enough), Banter, Coldflash Bingo 2019, Identity Porn, M/M, Post-Episode: s01e10 Revenge of the Rogues, Power Dynamics, Rough Sex, Season/Series 01, Snart doesn't know the Flash's identity yet, Superpower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-27 03:10:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18730537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sandrine/pseuds/Sandrine%20Shaw
Summary: Every single choice Barry has made tonight, from the minute he scoutedSaints and Sinnersfor information about their latest meta problem, is screaming 'bad idea'.





	A Good Time for Bad Ideas

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the 'first time' square of my Coldflash Bingo card (though my interpretation of the trope is somewhat liberal :D). 
> 
> I've been trying to fight my way out of a real life issues induced writer's block, hoping to get back into the swing of things. Fingers crossed. For now, I hope you enjoy this little ficlet.
> 
> Now with 100% fewer embarrassing typos thanks to glitterburn's impromptu beta! :D

 

Snart's hands are vise-tight around Barry's wrists.

If Barry were anyone else – if there wasn't lightning coursing through his veins and he didn't have actual superpowers – he'd be well and truly trapped. He allows himself to get lost in the illusion of being held down, blanketed by the hard panes of Snart's body and pushed firmly into the mattress.

_Leonard_. Barry should think of him as Leonard. 

He gives it a try, tasting the name on his tongue, and it tumbles out as a broken-off moan when the other man pushes into him, maddeningly slowly. Like he knows exactly how impatient Barry is, how much he wants to speed things up, and takes pleasure in denying him. Barry wishes he could meet Leonard's thrusts halfway but he can't get the leverage, unable to get out of the unyielding hold unless he uses his speed and gives himself away.

The thought makes his gut churn uncomfortably. 

There's always a level of deception involved in having a secret identity, and Barry understands the necessity of it. He has no interest in pulling off his mask and revealing himself to the world; Captain Cold knowing who the man underneath the Flash suit is would potentially put everyone in Barry's life at risk, even people like Iris who have no obvious connection to his vigilante alter ego. Still, there's something about letting one of the Flash's biggest villains flirt with Barry in some dingy bar and take him home without being aware of their history that makes Barry feel like _he's_ the bad guy here. Keeping this kind of secret, especially while being certain that they wouldn't be here if Snart knew who Barry really was, isn't something a hero should be doing. 

Then again, a hero probably shouldn't be letting a man who's fired a lethal weapon at him barely 48 hours before hold him down and fuck him into the mattress. Shouldn't have allowed Snart to back him against the brick wall in the alley behind the bar and kiss him until his head was swimming and his touch-starved body was aching to have those clever, deft hands on him. In fact, every single choice Barry has made tonight, from the minute he scouted _Saints and Sinners_ for information about their latest meta problem, is screaming ' _bad idea_ '.

He distracts himself from the unwelcome turn his thoughts have taken by wrapping his legs tighter around Snart's waist, crossing his ankles and pulling Snart closer.

"Come on," he whines, frustrated, needing it harder, faster, needing to get out of his head for just a little while.

Blue eyes gleam down at him with satisfaction, and Snart's voice has that same taunting edge as it does when he's got the Flash trapped at the business end of the Cold Gun. 

"Impatient, Barry? Don't worry, I'll get you there."

Barry already regrets giving Snart his real name, because the way he makes it sound, stretched in that slow, affected drawl like a dark caress, is going to be staying with Barry for a long time after this is over. 

The weight of Snart's stare is getting too much, and Barry closes his eyes. It's counterproductive, in a way, because it only makes the sensations grow more intense. He becomes hyperaware of Snart's fingertips drawing tiny circles on the tender skin of his wrists against bruises that will be gone before morning. The warmth of Snart's body. The crisp, clean smell of his skin. The delicious, almost painful friction of his cock slowly dragging in and out.

And then, all at once, Snart breaks the steady, sluggish pace. He slams into Barry with so much force that Barry would rock up against the headboard if Snart wasn't holding him in place.

_Fuck_. That's— 

He gasps when Snart pulls out almost completely only to drive back into him hard and fast, again and again. His eyes hold Barry's, beads of sweat on his forehead, his mouth curled into a snarl as he sets a brutal rhythm. It's almost too much, still not quite enough, Barry's cock hard and aching between their bodies. 

"Please, Snart, just—" 

He isn't sure what he's asking for. He wants Snart's hands on his cock, wants to be kissed until he's breathless, wants more of the same until he forgets the utter mess his life has been since the particle accelerator exploded.

What he gets instead is Snart changing the angle ever so slightly, and the flickers of pleasure in Barry's veins become a blaze: overwhelming and white hot, racing through his entire body from his curling toes to the balled fists in Snart's grip. It feels like every molecule of his body is shaking apart, and it takes him entirely too long to realize that it's not just the intensity of his orgasm. 

He's actually, literally, _shaking_ at lightning speed, vibrations running through him that he can't control, like the first time he discovered his powers.

Snart's eyes widen, and Barry can only guess what exactly it looks like and feels like from his end, unsure if the surprise flashing across his face and breaking the look of concentration is pleasure or recognition. 

Barry's helpless to stop it or do anything but ride it out, the Speed Force thrumming through his body, and even the knowledge that he just potentially unmasked himself can't dull the endorphin rush. He feels like a live wire, like an antenna in the middle of a lightning storm, like a whirlwind of energy pulling apart in all directions at once.

It's overwhelming and scary and exhilarating, and Barry isn't sure if it lasts ten seconds or ten minutes. The crash, when it comes – finally and too soon, all at once – is hard and almost makes the edges of Barry's vision blur. 

He fights tooth and nail against the urge to be pulled under, clinging to consciousness by a thread until his racing pulse settles.

Snart has pulled away, rolling off onto his side. His breathing is labored but his eyes are sharp and alert, frosty blue fixed on Barry. At least he isn't getting up and reaching for his gun, which Barry's grateful for because he doesn't think he could move yet even if his life depended on it. It's a small mercy, but Barry doubts he's going to get off that easy, and his suspicion is proved true when Snart speaks.

"Well, well, well." His voice is a satisfied drawl, and his expression is pleased, like a cat that just caught the mouse and can't resist showing off. "What an unexpected pleasure, _Flash_."

Barry doesn't bother denying it. What's the point? Like Snart would believe him if Barry told him he got it all wrong!

His shoulders drop in resignation, and he warily watches Snart watch him. He appears to be intrigued rather than angry at the deception, drumming his fingers on the mattress in an incessant rhythm. The motion draws in Barry's attention, and he momentarily gets distracted remembering how those same slim, deft fingers felt on his skin and inside of his body, mapping out every inch of him.

"Tell me, how did you think this would go?" Snart asks, and Barry's eyes snap back up to his face, trying to shake off the sense memory.

"I didn't," he admits, and Snart snorts. 

Barry shakes his head, even though Snart isn't wrong. Clearly, he _hadn't_ been thinking. Not with his brain, anyway. Otherwise, they wouldn't be having this conversation, and he wouldn't have to explain tomorrow how one of the Flash's nemeses came to know his identity. He cringes when he anticipates Caitlin's and Cisco's disapproval, not to mention the lecture it'll earn him from Dr. Wells.

"I mean, I didn't plan on running into you. Or—" He helplessly gestures between them. "—any of this. I was at the bar to get intel about a ca— about someone we've been tracking down. I almost flashed out of there when I saw you approach, but I didn't want to give myself away." And then, soon enough, he didn't _want_ to flash away anymore. He doesn't say that part out loud, even if it's implied.

" _Really_ ," Snart drawls, eyebrow raised. "You didn't want to give yourself away? Could have fooled me."

Barry winces. "Yeah, okay, I know how that sounds now. But I didn't know this would happen, okay?" It's a weak excuse, but it's all that he has.

"What? No one ever made you _vibrate_ before? What can I say, I'm just that good."

It's hard to tell if Snart's really that full of himself or if he's mocking Barry. 

"Oh God, stop. No, I just never—" He stumbles at the expression on Snart's face, whose eyes go wide for a split second before he reins in his emotions. Fuck. That's not what Barry meant. "Not _never_ never, obviously. Just... not since I got my powers."

He isn't entirely sure if that's so much better, admitting that he's had a dry spell that lasted for months, and that the first time he hooked up with someone afterwards, it was with a guy who'd tried to kill him and kidnapped one of his friends barely a week ago. 

Snart's still seizing him up, looking like he's trying to figure out if Barry's just making this up. 

"Aren't you full of surprises? Have to say, this has been... enlightening, Flash."

The name feels like a blast from the Cold Gun, an uncomfortable reminder that they're enemies and that this reprieve is temporary at best and approaching its expiry date. Barry isn't read for that, not when the bed is soft and comfortable and Snart's less than a foot away, his naked body radiating heat that belies his supervillain moniker and makes Barry want to curl closer.

"Do we have to fight?" he asks, sounding whinier than he intended. And because sex apparently makes him stupid and kills every semblance of a brain-to-mouth filter he has, he doesn't stop there. "Can we just stay in bed and cuddle for a while?"

Which is, like, in the top three of things he didn't think he'd ever tell Captain Cold. He closes his eyes and drops his head back onto the mattress with a soft thud, half-hoping that Snart will grab his gun and put Barry out of his misery before he can embarrass himself any further. "Can we just pretend I didn't say that right now?"

"Hmm." Snart makes a show of pretending to consider it. "I don't think so. In fact, I think I'll enjoy reminding you every time you flash in and try to mess with my plans."

"You're a dick," Barry states, without heat behind the words or the glare he sends Snart's way.

The other man's eyes narrow. It's the only warning Barry gets before Snart rolls on top of him in a smooth motion, balancing above Barry with his weight resting on his arms on either side of Barry's head, scowling down at him.

"I'm a villain, _Barry_. In case you forgot. Exploiting weaknesses is what I do. Using them against foolish – pretty – heroes – who carelessly – give away their identity." He punctuates each word with a thrust of his hips that rubs their groins together.

Barry swallows hard, his mouth suddenly dry like paper. 

Being threatened isn't a turn-on for him – or at least it never was before tonight, but the combination of the dangerous undercurrent in Snart's low voice, the intensity of that cool blue stare, and the way he puts delicious pressure on Barry's oversensitive cock makes Barry grow hard again. He wonders how he's ever supposed to face Captain Cold in a fight after this when he's rapidly developing a highly inappropriate Pavlovian reaction to the other man menacing him.

He should probably flash out of here as long as he can, he thinks. Then he suddenly remembers that, as much as his body apparently is into the idea of being held down like this, he's actually stronger and a hell of a lot faster than Snart.

With a burst of lightning, he flips them around until Snart is flat on his back and Barry is straddling him. Electricity buzzes over their skin where they touch, tiny static shocks between the tips of Barry's fingers and Snart's forearms. 

Barry grins at Snart's startled expression. _Two can play this game_ , he thinks, grinding down against Snart's cock until it gives an interested little twitch against Barry's ass.

"Okay. Do your worst, Cold. I'll be ready."

He's about to – _finally_ – do the smart thing and get the hell out of here, now that they've re-established status quo, but then Snart's palms settle on his hips. His eyes are dark with arousal, the way he's smirking up at Barry positively filthy, and Barry's urge to leave melts away.

"I'm counting on it, Scarlet." 

One of Snart's hands slips under Barry's ass, finger teasing the rim of his hole. He's still slick and tender from earlier, and the light touch sends tiny shudders up Barry's spine that he's sure don't escape Snart's attention, if the speculative gleam in his gaze is anything to go by.

"I'll make you a deal, Barry. Stick around for round two and maybe you'll get your post-coital cuddles."

"Sounds— _oh_!" Barry groans and closes his eyes for a moment when two long, clever fingers push into him at once, sliding inside without any resistance. "— good."

"Glad we're seeing eye to eye for once." Snart sounds far too satisfied, like he didn't concede just as much as Barry did. He twists his fingers, and Barry decides to let him have the last word, for now.

They'll have to make a deal of a different kind later, set some ground rules. 

Barry can't have Snart running around derailing trains and shooting innocent people, even if he's bound to leverage his knowledge of Barry's identity against him. But there'll be time for that afterwards. And maybe, just maybe, they can work out a compromise.

Barry lets Snart pull him down into a kiss. This just might be the best bad idea he's ever had.

End.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are love (like hot cocoa with mini-marshmallows, just with less calories)! ♥
> 
> You can [find me on Tumblr](http://sproutwings.tumblr.com), drowning in Coldflash feels, one GIF set at a time.


End file.
